


So long, Marianne

by tangledupinmist



Category: Call the Midwife
Genre: F/M, Grief/Mourning, Love Story, remembering
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-01
Updated: 2019-02-17
Packaged: 2019-10-02 07:44:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 17,201
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17260304
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tangledupinmist/pseuds/tangledupinmist
Summary: In 1957, one year after her death, Timothy Turner wants to know more about his mother, Marianne Turner. He begins interviewing his father, and later proceeds with other well-known characters from Poplar.





	1. Patrick speaks - Part 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Weshallc](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Weshallc/gifts).



> This began as a short Christmas fic for weshallc, but wanted to become a bit longer. So I am going to post in several chapters.  
> Happy New Year to all of you!

“Daddy, can you tell me a bit about Mummy?” Timothy asked, carefully, almost shy. He wasn’t always certain whether bringing up his mother was all right with his father. Sometimes, it would make his dad sad, and after they had had a reasonably gloomy but not overly unhappy first Christmas without Mummy, Timothy didn’t want to spoil their mood any further.

But he wanted to know about his mother.

Patrick looked at his son. “Your Mummy? What do you want to know?” he asked.

“I mean, how was she? How did you meet her? What was it that made you like her at first?”

Patrick smiled affectionately. There were dozens of things he could tell his son. Dozens of associations regarding his late wife, hundreds of fond memories. Right now, he saw her in his son’s face, part sad, part curious. Even though Timothy didn’t say it out loud, his father knew the boy was afraid of losing the memories he had of his mother. Just a few days ago Patrick had had a talk with young Sister Bernadette who had told him she had lost her mother as a child, too. In the aftermath he had thought a lot about his son’s situation and how he might better help the boy to cope with his grief.

Patrick shuffled closer to his son on the settee and hugged him tightly. They had spent the Christmas holidays together, along with Granny Parker who had just left. Now they were back just the two of them, and Patrick felt it was probably a good time for sharing fond memories of his wife, Timothy’s mother.

“Let’s see,” he began. “You know, if it wasn’t for your uncle Ted, I may not even have met or at least noticed her,” he said slowly.

“Uncle Ted?“ Timothy asked. “Is he the one who went to the States?”

Patrick nodded. “Yes, that is he. We met early on in the war and worked alongside one another for most of the time. When we were both doctors at Aldershot Military Hospital, and in 1942, we met your mother. She was part of a group of nurses in training and it was Ted who introduced us to each other.”

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

“Tonight?” Patrick cried. “I was hoping to do some reading. Ted, I am tired, for once I don’t feel like going out.” He took a final drag from the burnt down cigarette he was holding and dropped it to the floor, onto the small patch where grass used to grow, before it had become the surgeons’ favourite spot for their cigarette breaks.

“Oh, come on, Turner, what are you, a lame duck? Nurse Parker has finally agreed to go out with me and she offered to bring a friend, so I need to bring one, too.”

Patrick rolled his eyes. “I should have known. It’s always about a girl, isn’t it?”

“But this isn’t just another girl,” Ted gushed. “She’s classy, pretty, and –

“A girl,” Patrick added. “How old, 18, 19? Isn’t she the nurse in training you have been gushing about for weeks and weeks now?”

“Dear lord, you should know me better by now!” Ted cried, acting offended. “She’s part of the group of the Red Cross nursing training group who arrived here from London past month. She is our age. She trained and qualified as a teacher before, she is a real lady, my friend.”

Patrick rolled his eyes again. “And she only agreed to give in to you pestering her on the condition that she take a friend and you take one, too, am I right?” he asked.

Ted let out a huff, and took out two cigarettes from the pack he had been holding in his hands. He casually lit both and handed one to Patrick. “Come on now, 7pm, Sunday best.” Then he turned around and entered the surgical ward again.

Patrick shook his head. He and Ted had met almost one year ago, on their first day as army surgeons, newly assigned to Aldershot Military Hospital. They were very different in character, but perhaps this was why they got along so well. While Ted was very outgoing, mischievous and always flirting with the nurses, Patrick was calm, straight-forward and very private. But both respected each others’ professional attitude and medical competency, and found themselves a good match also when going to the pub or a dance, even though Patrick often took over the role of Ted’s friend who went along to entertain the best friend of the girl Ted was currently seeing.

Patrick took another drag from his cigarette, then dropped it to the floor. He needed to hurry, another group of injured young lads had arrived this morning and he was needed for patching them up.

Later that day, Ted and Patrick waited outside the small pub near the hospital. They were smoking their third cigarette, when two women approached them. One was tall, lean and had brown short wavy hair. The other was a bit smaller, had a curvy figure and a blond ponytail. Both looked quite endearing, Patrick thought.

They entered the pub and Ted immediately ordered a round for them.

Susan, it turned out, was a lovely person, but absolutely not interested in Patrick. He wasn’t able to bring up a topic eliciting more than one replying sentence out of her. It was tedious sitting with her and he was glad when Ted suggested they leave and move to a dancing location. Patrick hoped to excuse himself on the way. He did want some reading done. He didn't care how Ted would be spending the rest of the night with the two women he had invited in the first place.

 

* * *

 

_Aldershot, 14 March 1942_

_I finally gave in to Ted Horringer’s insisting he take me out. I only did it to be left alone as he just would not accept a “no”. These men, they can be so very pathetic. I have had several doctors asking me out since I arrived here, but none had been as persistent as him. He has been asking me every day for weeks and I hoped if I just gave in once I could show him that I really am not interested._

_I really only did it so I could bring Susan. From our first day here, she could not stop talking about Dr Horringer. I thought if I took her he either takes notice of her or she will just stop talking about him. He is quite a cheery lad, and a good-looking one, too. But he is a little too flirtatious to my taste, and I don’t want to simply be number 49 in his growing collection._

_It seems I did the right thing, though, accepting his invitation. Ted brought along a friend, another doctor whom I may have spotted a few times but I never quite noticed him before. Quite an interesting and attractive lad. He seems to be my age, a few years older, perhaps, but not too many._

_Patrick Turner is his name, born and raised in Liverpool. Which one could still tell from his accent, though just a bit. He trained as a GP but is now working as a surgeon. We met at a pub and had a few drinks. I could tell Patrick and Susan were not getting along well at all. Ted would not stop talking to me and I had a hard time listening to him. I really wasn’t too interested, I rather wanted him to talk to Susan once. So I suggested we move to the dance hall and I had already planned my little trick, the one that always does it. On the way to the dance hall, I pretended to stumble and said my heel was broken so I wouldn’t be able to dance._

_This way, Susan ended up dancing with Ted while Patrick was kind enough to stay with me at the table. He said, he wasn’t much of a dancer, too. I was surprised at how interesting a person he turned out, and at how comfortable I felt in his presence. While I thought him quite handsome from the first moment, I had assumed him to be a rather brooding type. He is tall, dark hair, dark eyes, and he does have an enticing smile, though it took him a while to show it to me._

_He is doing research on new pain relief regimens, to be administered under war conditions. Ted was making fun of him, when he overheard us talking about work, but I find it quite interesting. So many men use the war and their effort as an excuse to run riot or forget about morals and manners, but Patrick makes use of his sparse free time for doing extra research._

_After he told me about their work on the surgical ward, I may apply for a transfer there. I know surgical rotation comes last in our training, but I think I have done very well so far and have good reasons to justify my wish._

_He is indeed an interesting man, I cannot remember when was the last time I had met someone I found both interesting and handsome at the same time._

 

* * *

 

 

“So Mummy acted as if she was not able to dance to be able to talk to you?” Timothy exclaimed.

Patrick chuckled. “Yes, she did. Well, she really did not want to dance with uncle Ted that night, that is why she pretended. She didn’t actually do it because of me. But since Ted was busy dancing with her friend, we had plenty of time to talk, and I think that was how we both became friends. And to be honest, I quite liked her, too, so I encouraged her friend to go and dance with Ted rather than with me.”

“But you only got married after the war, right?”

Patrick nodded. “Yes, war times are difficult times.” His face momentarily became clouded with dark memories. “I hope you never have to learn this yourself, son. But yes, soon after the war was over, we got married.”


	2. Patrick speaks - Part 2

“Marry me, Patrick,” Marianne panted.

Patrick raised his head and rolled himself onto his side. He drew the sheets up to cover his naked body along with Marianne’s, in the same state of undress, in the course of doing so. He furrowed his brow. “You know how I think about it, darling.”

“Yes, and you know how I think about it. Let us get married, as long as we can.”

Patrick’s face became earnest. “Marianne, love, everyday I see those lads all damaged and crippled by the war. I don’t want you to have to put up with me should I come back home like them one day. They are going to send me to the continent eventually. And God knows how and when I will be coming back.”

Marianne shuffled closer to him and buried her face in the crook of his neck. “I don’t care. I love you. There is no one else I want to be with. And I want to have it all, in sickness and in health. With or without your legs or arms. I will always love you for who you are, Patrick.”

They lay together in silence, the late summer sun coating Patrick’s sparsely furnished room in a golden light, the curtains lazily dancing in the late summer breeze.

He was boarding with an elderly lady who had made it clear on his first day that he was not to have any lady visitors. But Patrick had soon noticed, that she was almost deaf and retired very early for the night. At present, she was away for the whole month of August, visiting family in Kent. Ever since Mrs Wilkins had left, Marianne had spent every night at Patrick’s place, both enjoying this feeling of sharing their lives together.

It only took them a bit of care to not arouse the neighbours’ attention, and Marianne had become an expert in sneaking in and out through the back door at odd times of the day.

Patrick groaned. They had been seeing each other for the past four months, and he had been surprised at how bold Marianne had been right away.

A few days after their first date, which hadn’t really been a date, Marianne had waited for Patrick after his shift. She had suggested they have dinner at some pub and asked him to take her for a walk afterwards. He had been surprised at her initiating their first kiss. To be honest he had spent half the time of their walk debating himself whether he should give in to his urge to kiss her, only to be held back by his gentlemanly manners, firmly imprinted into his mind by his mother, Caroline Turner, who had grown up with five brothers, making her an advocate for women’s rights.

After they had said their good byes and Patrick walked home from Marianne’s lodgings, he briefly thought about his friend Ted who kept on still talking about how he would certainly manage to take out Nurse Parker for a second date, without her boring friend in tow.

Instead, Marianne had picked Patrick and Patrick, baffled at first, was soon in as much head over heels as his girl. He had never been in a serious relationship before. He had had quite a few flings during his days as a student and a doctor in training. A nurse from the surgical ward. A hospital receptionist. An artist, a lovely red-haired girl, who left him to be with another girl. Just before the war he had been seeing a typist. A very intelligent girl who had to earn her living early on. He had considered asking her to marry him when she left him for another man, one who made quite a bit more money than him and stuck a ring on her finger right away.

All this was now forgotten. Soon, Marianne began to regularly sneak into his room during one of the rare days off or during the nights neither was working a shift.

He remembered their first time together – not that this was suitable talk for a child. Marianne had brought a bottle of whisky a recently recovered Scottish serviceman’s mother had given her to thank her for taking care of her youngest. They had had a few glasses together and one thing had led to each other. They found themselves in the heat of the moment and suddenly couldn’t undress each other quickly enough. Their encounter was hungry and raw and quick, with only one lucid moment during which Patrick remembered to put on a sheath. He was a doctor, after all, and one who was a trained obstetrician. He knew what might happen and didn’t want it to, not during the war, not without being married. But should he ever marry, he knew already, it would be her, it would be Marianne Parker.

The moment Patrick was entirely certain of Marianne was one of despair. Not long after they had first met, Marianne had been transferred to the surgical ward. There she was very popular with the young soldiers convalescing. She was a no-nonsense person, very correct and collected in her appearance. She was not flirty like other girls, she made it always clear there was a boundary to never be crossed with her. But she was always smiling and loved to tell jokes with the men and managed to cheer up those suffering from home-sickness or the general fatigue many servicemen suffered from this bloody dragging-on war.

One day, Patrick walked outside for his usual cigarette break in between two operations. Spring was coming, tempting the first blossoms to sprinkle the little park with their colours. Patrick walked around and stretched his aching limbs, until he heard muffled crying behind a bush.

He was surprised to find Marianne, and instantly became afraid when he noticed her crying. He had never seen her in such a state of despair, and could not bear to see it. He hurried to her and held her tightly. After a long moment passed in silence, she cried “It is all so senseless. This bloody war. Can it be over please? How many men have yet to die? Who will be next? I can’t take it any longer.”

Patrick tried to remain calm and carefully rocked her back and forth. He knew the cause for her tears. A young Scottish soldier, a red-haired country boy, had died earlier this morning, after they had already talked about him being able to be discharged soon. He had been a favourite of all of the surgical staff and held Marianne in particular high esteem. Marianne had often spoken of him and told Patrick how he had been dictating her a few beautiful love letters to his fiancée as he was unable to write due to a broken right arm. The boy had suddenly and unexpectedly taken a turn for the worse and died within the hour.

Patrick knew that every medical professional, no matter how long they were working in their field, had these moments. There was always that one case that was too much on a certain day. He could only hold Marianne until she had calmed. But no matter how heavy his heart was, he also felt at peace. If she would allow him to hold her, entrust him to share her grief, this meant she was ready to be his. For he knew, as cheerful as she was in the company of others, rarely did she open herself to really share her real feelings. He felt privileged, proud and very moved.

 

* * *

 

 

_Aldershot, 5 September 1942_

_I have never had so much fun with a man. I never thought it possible. During all previous friendships or relationships with men, there was a certain reservation, or awkwardness. Nothing like this with Patrick. He understands me so well. Whenever I see him, he looks at me as if I am the world to him. And, truth be told, he is my world. I knew since that bloody day the darling Scottish lad had died. I was ready to pack my bags and leave the bloody hospital if it hadn’t been for Patrick giving me comfort and showing me that there are things worth living for._

_Ours is not just a momentary infatuation, fuelled by the war. This is true love. When we are together, the world is standing still. There is no war, no patients, no sorrows and no future. There is just him and me, and our bodies that can do the most wonderful things to each other. I never thought I would write these lines, they sound like from a romance novel. But I can’t help it, I have found someone I truly love, and what could I ask for more, especially during these bleak times we are living in._

_Oh how I wish this bloody war over. For someone to shoot Herr Hitler, to do something about it all. For Patrick will very likely be sent to the continent, and I couldn’t be more afraid for him. I will never tell him, I don’t want him to worry about me. But yes, I am scared. Everytime I look at him, I try to remember his face, his body and everything about him. I don’t allow me thinking about it, but I can’t entirely stop it. There is the possibility he may go away and never return._

_I want nothing more than getting married and show everyone that we belong together. But he doesn’t want us to get married, not as long as he hasn’t returned from the war. I am both outraged and in awe of him. Outraged because I want to keep of him what I can, even if it only was his name. In awe because he does what he thinks is right and he sticks to his principles. He is a man of principles, so much more mature than most other men our age I know._

_He doesn’t want me to have to take care of him should he come back severely damaged. But what is love if not exactly this? In sickness and in health? I will always love him, no matter how he will be coming back. And God forbid, should he never come back, having been married to him might be the only thing that ever stayed with me._

 

* * *

 

 

“So you did not want to marry mum at first? Even when they sent you abroad?” Timothy asked.

“No. It is difficult to explain. For others, the war meant they sped up things. Decided they would get married as soon as possible. But I was desperate to wait. I wanted times to get better, to know we would have a future in peace, be able to raise our children in peace and safety.” He paused. “You know, I didn’t think, and I still do, that war times aren’t the times for having children. Peace is much better suited for this,” he said, ruffling Timothy’s hair in a playful gesture.

Patrick watched his son affectionately. He clearly saw his late wife’s face mirrored in his boy’s. He missed her, more than ever in these moments, when there was no one he could share his pride in their son with. But if felt good to share a few memories of Marianne with his son, some long buried in his mind, and he was glad to dig them out, lest he forget them.

He had apologized to Marianne after the war, for his stubbornness to not marry her back in 1942 when she had first brought it up. Only during his time on the battlefield had he realized he had made a mistake and should have married. Now she was gone, and even though he was grateful for their time together and their adorable son, he sometimes thought they might have had an even longer history, and perhaps another child, a daughter, looking just as Marianne.

 

* * *

 

_26 December 1942_

_Dear darling Marianne, my love,_

_Christmas is almost over, it is 11 pm now, while I have sat down to write these lines to you. I hope you have had holidays as lovely as I was blessed to have. My mother is as fine and healthy as a lady her age could be. I have lost count of elderly aunts and cousins and neighbours we have visited or who have visited us, who have commented on me wearing my uniform and who wanted to stuff me with food and drink as if I was ten years old._

_I can’t wait to return to Aldershot, and to you, though. There hasn’t been a second passing by during which I have not missed you dearly. I am afraid I gave away just how much I am in love with you to my mother because I haven’t been able to talk about anything else than about your beauty, your lovely smile and your generous personality. She wants me to send you her sincere greetings and hopes to visit next year to meet you._

_I am so glad we are going to share our shifts over New Year, meaning we will be reunited in just a few hours. As I told you, I am quite certain that they are going to send me overseas anytime now, and I can’t spend enough time with you to generate enough memories to keep me alive until we are going to see each other._

_This past year has certainly be_ _en_ _the best of my life, for I have been blessed with meeting you. I could not have met a lovelier, more adorable, more perfect lady, and oftentimes I can’t believe you love me back. What can I offer you, being a poor, boring, GP, living in times like these? I am so very happy that you have chosen to be my girl. My lovely bold girl who is bringing out the best in me, which, I grant you, is often hidden beneath quite a few bad manners and habits._

_Let us hope that this bloody war is going to end very soon so we can have our future together. I don’t want anything more than getting married to you and having children with you. Settling down somewhere in peace and quiet, somewhere in the Yorkshire countryside, far away from everything. Having a few little girls with curly dark hair and your so very beautiful little nose, this is all I am dreaming of. One or two boys for playing cricket, perhaps. Of course, the fun in making more of those little girls and boys with their lovely mother will be part of this plan, too._

_For now, I am leaving you. I am going to board the train back to Aldershot tomorrow morning, and I hope that by tomorrow afternoon, we will be together again, my love._

_Yours,_

_Patrick Turner_

 


	3. Patrick speaks - Part 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I accidentally posted a wrong chapter as chapter 3 yesterday. Here is the actual chapter 3, followed by chapter 4 which was posted too early. Sorry for that.

“Oh, Patrick, it is beautiful,” Marianne beamed. She looked at the ring at her finger and held it up for Patrick to admire what he had just put on her left ring finger.

“This is not an engagement ring, though,” Patrick explained. “I want you to have this as a token of my love. And as a promise that as soon as this bloody war is over and I am back in one piece, I am going to ask you to marry me first thing. You are going to have a proper ring and we’ll be off to the registry office the second after. That is,” he paused, “if you still are going to have me.”

“I will always have you, Patrick Turner,” Marianne murmured and leaned in to initiate a heated kiss while beginning to unbutton his uniform shirt.

It was late March 1943 and Patrick had just received his mobilization order. In order to make up for this he had invited Marianne to a weekend at the seaside, a first short holiday, and probably their last weekend together without work before he had to leave for his military training in April.

The weather was cool and rainy, but neither cared, for apart from short walks outside, Marianne and Patrick spent the two and a half days in their room, cuddled up to each other in the bed, trying to hold on to each other for they knew they would soon have to part.

Patrick was expecting to be sent to the continent within the next two months. Just after he had received news he was supposed to leave, Marianne had applied for a transfer back to London.

When she had first arrived at Aldershot about a year ago, she had only planned to stay for the required three months of hospital training. She had intended to return to her native London. Her plans had changed soon after she had met Patrick. But now, with the prospect of him being gone for an extended period of time, Marianne was afraid of suffering from heartbreak if she stayed back alone. So she had decided to return to London, stay with her mother again and be placed at a hospital or shelter in the area.

Marianne had read English and French. She knew all the classics and loved the theatre. She had been a teacher with all of her heart. But after the Blitz during which her school had been transformed into a makeshift hospital, Marianne had decided for the time being, she would be of better use as a nurse than a teacher. She had enlisted for a basic nursing training organized by the Red Cross, hoping that it would come in handy whatever she did in the future. Also, the war couldn’t go on forever, and she had the hope that one day in the not too distant future, she would be able to teach again.

Just two weeks before he had received his orders, Patrick had introduced Marianne to his mother. He had invited Mrs Turner to visit him because he wanted her to meet Marianne. Even though she was not his fiancée, he introduced her as the woman he was going to marry as soon as he returned from wherever they were going to send him. Mrs Turner and Marianne had liked each other instantly and Mrs Turner had insisted she and Marianne stay in touch by writing regularly.

Marianne tried not to think about how soon she was going to be back to London. For now, she and Patrick had still a few days together, a few days they had decided they would make the most of.

 

* * *

 

 

_London, 27 April 1943_

_Patrick has been in Birmingham for almost four weeks now. We keep writing each other at least once per day, often twice. But writing can never make up for being near to each other. I have never felt so whole with somebody else. Never so empty and lost without someone. I feel that there doesn’t pass one second in which I don’t miss him with every fibre of my body._

_Those past days I have been suspecting I might be pregnant. We always took precautions, and I know it is hardly possible that I really am. But my body feels different, something is different. It is as if fate wants to tell me that I need to retain a part of Patrick. I also cannot imagine having a child without him, though should he never come back, I would at least have this part of him inside and with me. This may even be comforting, whatever is going to happen._

_Still, he is here, but it may not be long until they are going to send him away now. They are not yet telling them anything, but we have to probably expect him to leave any day now, come May._

_I wish he had granted me my one and only wish and let us get married before. It would be my husband who is gone, and I would officially_ _be_ _allowed all_ _the_ _feelings I am feeling. It sounds cruel, but this is how it is now. I have no right missing him, and I wouldn’t even have any right having his child. I wouldn’t even know if something happened to him if I didn’t get along with his mother. I wonder whether this was the real reason behind him introducing us to each other. So that he knew we knew of each other and should something happen to him, she might let me know._

_I have to end now, I have to get up early tomorrow morning. I am going to be interviewed by the Sisters of Nonnatus House in Poplar as they are in need of assistant nurses for their shelter. Even though it will take me over one hour every morning to travel there by bus, I need to do something useful, something with my hands, something to make this bloody war more bearable. I can’t work with soldiers anymore, not while Patrick is out there._

 

* * *

 

 

“You are a bloody old fool, Turner,” Ted huffed, lighting another cigarette.

“Oh, shut up, Ted,” Patrick murmured, lighting himself one, too.

The two of them were sitting on a wall near the harbour of Catania, Sicily. They were part of the allied force which had invaded Sicily in July 1943. They were on the island for the time being, expecting to soon cross onto the mainland, and free Italy from the fascist forces.

It was a warm summer night, cicadas were chirping, and the smells were abundant. They had a rare evening off, the first in weeks - only neither was able to enjoy the setting. They were in a war, and neither knew what to expect from one day to the next.

“You should have married her,” Ted said. “You’re suffering like a dog,” he added. “I hope she is, too. Do you think she will be ready to wait for you one, two, three years?”

“Ted, don’t cry wolf,” Patrick cried. “I hope we’re back home by Christmas and yes, I won’t waste another second dragging her to the registry office.”

Ted chuckled. “Oh, I want to see that. You dragging Miss Parker anywhere. She’ll have you by your throat and in pieces more quickly than you’d know.”

Patrick smiled. He loved Marianne having her own mind. Some might call her headstrong, and Ted, still suffering from having been rejected, never missed to point to it.

“You know, I was pretty angry at you at first,” Ted said. “You had what I couldn’t have. I still don’t know why she would pick you over me, to be honest. But now, seeing you all love-struck puppy, I think you two were meant to be. I am going to be your best man, aren’t I?”

Ted paused, taking a few drags of his cigarette. “I think we will be alright, mate,” he added, his voice suddenly very earnest. “I know we will be. It won’t be a Sunday walk in the park, perhaps, but we will come out fine, the two of us. Believe me.” He dropped his cigarette bud to the floor and crushed it with his foot and let out a long breath. Then he punched Patrick into his side playfully, somewhat awkwardly, to cheer his friend up.

Patrick smiled a sad smile. He had just received a letter from Marianne telling him she had suffered a miscarriage. She was now working as an assistant nurse with an Anglican order in the East End. One day she had collapsed during her shift. One of the nuns had been with her all the way, had taken her to the hospital and stayed with her for a whole day.

Patrick had cried over the letter and now felt a pain he never had experienced before. Pain over not having been able to be with Marianne in times of suffering. Pain over a child that was not supposed to live. Even though he had always told Marianne he didn’t want to have children as long as there was war, the very real possibility of there being one made him realize how much he would have loved to see this child be born, his and Marianne’s.

Instead, he was sitting here, a thousand miles away from her, entangled in the smell of salt water and rotting fish, his days and nights an endless stream of blood, smashed bones, cracked skulls, and severed limbs. Even though he took great strength out of his capability of being able to help, this meant nothing at all when this meant he wasn’t able to be with the woman he loved and who was experiencing so much heartache.

Patrick made a choking sound.

“What is it?” Ted asked.

“She may have died,” Patrick said, his voice constrained. “She had a miscarriage and she wrote that she may have died.”

Ted nodded. He felt sorry for his friend. He himself had never been close to considering getting married. He agreed with Patrick that a war wasn’t the time to get married. But then he had seen his friend and Marianne numerous times and had to admit there couldn’t be a better match.

 

* * *

 

 

_25 February 1944_

_I haven’t heard from Patrick since late January. I am very worried. All I know is he is at Monte Cassino now and the news is sparse but never good. I should not complain, really. Others have had worse. He has been alive so far, and every day that we don’t get any news is a good one._

_I keep writing to Mrs Turner regularly and I even consider visiting her during_ _the_ _summer. She suggested it when we spoke over the phone on Christmas and I have been considering it ever since. She never lets on in her weekly letters, but I can tell she is as worried as I am, even more probably, for I cannot imagine how a mother must feel about her only son being far away._

_We were hoping Patrick would receive word he might be sent home, even for just one or two weeks. If not for Christmas, perhaps for Easter. From what he and Ted are writing, they must be working every day and every night. Surely even in wartimes, they can’t keep on like this, the army should take care of their doctors. He keeps promising me we are getting married as soon as they are going to give him a holiday, and I can’t wait for news as to when this will be._

 

* * *

 

 

“So while you were away in the war, Mummy was very ill and Sister Evangelina helped her?”

“Yes, Mummy was ill and because she had been working with the Sisters for a while back then, Sister Evangelina was with her when she had to go to hospital and after. I was very grateful, because I couldn’t be with Mummy. This really is the reason we are living here now, Tim.”

“Why is that, Dad?” Timothy asked.

“Well, after I had to go to the continent, your mother returned to London. She heard that the Sisters were in need of nursing staff and applied there. It wasn’t exactly around the corner from where Granny Parker lives, but Mummy liked the Sisters and said she wanted a change from working with soldiers. Instead, they were taking care of those in poverty. Back then, there was no National Heath Service, so many people weren’t even able to afford the most basic health care. This was what the Sisters did back then.”

“And when you returned, you joined Mummy here in Poplar?”

“Yes, it was kind of that way, son,” Patrick chuckled.

 

* * *

 

 

Patrick and Marianne sat next to each other on a bench in the large park of Northfield Military Hospital. It was four weeks since Patrick had arrived here. Spring was in full course, just as in the days three years ago when their romance had first begun. Back then, Patrick had often plucked a flower and stuck it into Marianne’s short curls. Now, neither of them even noticed the colours and sweet scents around them, the warmth of the sun or the birds singing their spring songs.

Today was the first time Patrick had been allowed a visitor. As soon as Marianne had received his letter, she had packed her bag and left with the next train. She needed to see him. When a nurse led her to him sat in the spacey entrance hall, Marianne couldn’t believe what she saw. A thousand times and more she had imagined how it would be to be seeing Patrick again, after having been apart for two years. Even though her mind told her that he would most likely look differently, the war having left its marks, she wasn’t at all prepared at what she saw when Patrick, guided by the nurse, entered the hall.

His eyes empty, his face grey, his body thin and limp. Her Patrick had become an empty shell, a shadow of the man she had fallen in love with. Still, he was her Patrick, and while he didn’t embrace her or take her hand into his as he would always do before the war, he let her touch him and lead him outside, for Marianne felt she must choke within the walls of the hospital.

“I hold you true to your word, you know,” Marianne snuffled and wiped her eyes with a small while handkerchief. “First thing, take me to the registry office. You won’t get off the hook that easily, Dr Turner.”

Patrick smiled a small smile, a weary one, but it was a smile, Marianne noticed through her teary eyes.

“And then, I think you might consider joining me in the East End. I think you are going to be out of the hospital soon, and you need to earn a living for me to be wanting to marry you,” she forced a smile. “The Sisters have been asking about you so many times. They said they are in need of a capable GP in Poplar. They have one who is about retirement age and if you would consider taking over from him, they would put in a good word for us.”

Patrick nodded. He was barely able to make it through a day in the hospital. Get dressed, breakfast, group therapy, lunch, nap, occupational therapy, another nap, dinner, writing a letter, go to sleep. These were his days and he felt quite tired by tackling them. He just could not think beyond Northfield right now. How many men had he seen dying? Would he ever be able to touch his stethoscope or a syringe?

“I know, you may need more rest and more time for recuperating,” Marianne said hoarsely. “But you will be well eventually. And I know you, Patrick Turner. Once you are released from here, you will need to do something in an instant. You are not made for sitting around idle. And think of it, already there are more babies being born in Poplar than in most other parts of town. And with the war ending and all the men coming home, even more will be born. What else could be a better job than after what you have been through?” She paused and looked down onto her lap.

“Also, I was thinking that we, too, could have a baby,” her voice faded out.

Patrick breathed in. Very carefully he took her left hand with his right and squeezed it lightly. It was a feather light squeeze, though it took all the strength that he could muster at this moment.

Yes, I want this baby, his squeeze said. I want this more than anything in the world for it means that I have survived the war and came back to you. There was another baby we were not supposed to have. Yes, we are going to have this baby.

This was all Marianne needed from her visit. They spent another hour sitting in silence, Patrick’s hand still touching hers, both certain that yes, one day he would be healed, and yes, they would be spending a happy future together. Even if it meant to wait another two years.


	4. Patrick speaks - Part 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I accidentally posted this yesterday as chapter 3, so if you are confused and think you may already have this one, please check out the actual chapter 3. Very sorry. I am not as calm, cool, collected and professional as I may think of myself.

_15 November 1945_

_Patrick has been released today. I hope I am going to say that my wedding day or the day our first child will be born is going to be the happiest day of my life. But this day will always be coming very close to be another happy one._

_Patrick will by now have arrived in Liverpool at his mother’s. I think she deserves to spend some time alone with her son until he is going to join me the day after tomorrow. I have arranged for him to be staying in the vicarage next to Nonnatus House. The Sisters are already looking forward to meeting my fiancée and their future GP. Technically, he hasn’t yet agreed to the post, as he has not been able to visit Poplar and the surgery and everything around it. But I am certain he will like it._

_Most other doctors refrained from this task. Not Patrick. I know he is the right man for the task. He kept telling me how he wants to make a difference, and where better to do this than in an area where poverty is so rampant like here. He is an idealist, after all. Also I think he will be able to forget about the demons of war once he will be able to help people here to improve their lives and wellbeing._

_I am so very glad he is fully healed. When I first visited him at Northfield I cried all the way back to London on the train. I thought I would never have him back. And I doubt he thought so himself. I will never fully understand just what it was that made him suffer so much. For now, all I am is glad for this darkest period in our lives being over, and for the war being over, too. I have him back, and now that he is healed, I want to cry again all day, but out of joy. I know, I should be grateful that he came home without any injuries, but seeing him there, just a shadow of his former self, broke my heart._

_When we talked over the phone this morning we agreed on January 6_ _ th _ _being our wedding day. As had already planned to spending Christmas together, and for Mrs. Turner to join us, she will certainly be happy to stay on a bit longer to attend the wedding. Mummy and I have invited Mrs Turner to stay with us and Patrick will join us for the holidays. I assume he will want to being working as quickly as possible._

_I can’t wait for Patrick to arrive, and for getting a new dress, picking up rings, everything. We won’t have a large celebration. Patrick doesn’t have much family left, and with little time remaining, we do not want to put too much effort into it. We are simply glad that we can say our vows._

_Ted agreed to be Patrick’s best man. He is back in London, and has joined a practice in Harley Street. I asked Catherine to be my maid of honour. She really is my oldest and best friend. I should warn her of Ted, though, he will certainly want to get to know her._

_As for me, I haven’t yet thought about what I am going to do with my life apart from getting married. With the war having ended and all the nurses coming back, they no longer need us assistant nurses, and I wasn’t made for nursing in the first place. In fact I am more than happy I could finally leave it behind for good._

_If I didn’t have Patrick and they very real prospect of getting married very soon, I would resume teaching in an instant. I truly hope that one day I will be able to do what I always wanted to. For now, I will have to find us a flat, make us a happy home and, so I hope, have the child Patrick and I have been talking about a lot. We really can’t wait for it to happen, and to be honest, I wouldn’t mind for it to happen even before we got married. We have been waiting for too long, why waste another second?_

 

* * *

 

 

“So you got married in early 1946, but I was only born in 1947. Isn’t it a shorter period of time until babies are born?” Timothy asked

Patrick cleared his throat. Now this wasn’t a topic he felt keen on or prepared to discuss with an 11-year-old.

“Well, yes, son. Sometimes these things happen fast, sometimes they take a tad bit longer,” he explained, hoping Timothy would be satisfied with it.

“And did you move here, into this flat, right away?”

 

* * *

 

 

“Patrick,” Marianne exclaimed from the kitchen, as soon as she heard him enter their flat. “Patrick, guess what? We may have found our new home.”

“How is that?” Patrick asked, when he entered the kitchen. He kissed his wife on the cheek and spun her around. “Tell me more, darling.”

“Fred Buckle heard of it today and came by to tell me earlier,” Marianne said, in an excited voice. “He already took me there to have a look, and it is perfect. It is near Kenilworth Row. A flat, and an adjacent building with rooms suitable for a small surgery. There are more rooms, you might even expand the surgery one day, you know, hire another doctor, perhaps, or have a few rooms for patients, like a small hospital or something.”

Patrick raised his eyebrows. Hadn’t he already thought his wife was the most perfect human being, he certainly would have thought so now. “This sounds perfect indeed,” he exclaimed. “When can we have another look?”

“This is the best part,” Marianne said. “It is empty. We can have it right now.”

“Can we?” Patrick cried and lifted her up. “Mrs Turner, you are really quite tremendous.”

“Well, there is one little thing, perhaps, but we can handle it?” Marianne added tentatively.

“What is it, love?” Patrick asked, his face slowly losing its smile.

“Well, the flat has seen better days. We would have to put in a bit of work,” she began. “But Fred already offered to help us,” Marianne added quickly. “Also, the adjacent building I spoke of was used for a storage. There is a lot of mold and dust and rubble, but I think once the rooms are cleaned and have a new coat of paint, they will make a perfect surgery for you.”

Patrick’s face fell. With the help of the Sisters they had found a very tiny flat not far away from Nonnatus House. They only had one bedroom and what was more like a large kitchen. With housing scarce, they had agreed to move in here first so as to be able to have their own household as Dr and Mrs Turner. Then they would be looking for their own flat.

Patrick had started working as the new GP for Poplar right after their wedding. With everything that had happened before, both were of the opinion that it wasn’t the time for a honeymoon. Rather, both Marianne and Patrick were keen on starting their new life as it was.

For the first weeks, Patrick had worked along the former GP who operated out of a small, old-fashioned surgery. He dreamt of his own surgery, modern, airy, and situated near their flat so that he would be able to participate in family life despite his on-call schedules.

“Now, why don’t we eat first and then see how we go about this?” he asked. With the housing shortage and a lot of buildings damaged and decayed because of the war, Patrick knew this was probably the best option they had right now.

And indeed, eight weeks later, he was able to carry Marianne over the threshold of their new flat. They had decided that they would renovate the flat first, as they needed the space. Just a few days after Marianne had told Patrick about the new place, she had told him more good news. She was pregnant, and due to give birth by January 1947. Therefore, more room was needed.

It was now July, the summer heat in full swing. Both Patrick and Marianne were very busy, but happier than either had been in a very long time. They had everything they had dreamt of. Patrick had recently begun to plan together with the sisters for the roll-out for the new National Health. He could talk for hours about this massive endeavour which would benefit so many people all over the country, but especially here, in the East End, where poverty was striking everywhere.

 

* * *

 

 

_15 September 1947_

_I think I felt the Baby move for the first time. I must have noticed it for quite some time, but it only occurred to me today that the strange itching feeling I sometimes feel in my belly is the little being kicking. It feels like someone twitching or tickling me from inside, and I can’t stop waiting for it ever since I noticed it consciously for the first time._

_Patrick has been very excited when I told him. He said he won’t be able to feel anything from outside for another month or two, but he spent all evening putting his hand over the baby. We talked a lot about how this is really all we can ask for. I cannot believe how far we have come. A year ago, Patrick was still at Northfield, and we didn’t even know when he would be released. And now we have our own flat, and we are making good progress on Patrick’s new surgery. He plans to open it by next January. With the National Health coming along next year, he says he has to be prepared. He has high hopes that now, health care will become accessible to everyone, those in need will no longer be hesitant to seek medical help._


	5. Sister Evangelina speaks - Part 1

„Oh, Timothy, I didn’t know you were in here,“ Sister Evangelina exclaimed upon discovering the little boy on the settee in the Nonnatus House living room. It was late afternoon and she had returned from a delivery, tired and with an aching back. She had aimed for a quick rest before getting her things ready in preparation of the next day.

Timothy seemed a bit lost, all by himself. “Did you come here with your father?” the nun asked gently.

“Yes,” the boy replied meekly. ”He only wanted to drop off some medicine for Nurse Miller to take along to someone but then the phone rang and Sister Bernadette came and asked him to go to an urgent case with her. He told me to wait for him and not move.”

“Oh, I see. Well, has no one taken care of you then?” Sister Evangelina huffed. It was the Saturday before Easter and Mrs B was not in, but somebody else must be here. Sister Bernadette could at least have given the poor boy something to eat, the older woman thought.

“Come along, should we try and see whether there is any cake left in the tin?”

Timothy’s eyes lit up “Yes,” he whispered and jumped up to follow Sister Evangelina through to the kitchen.

A few minutes later, the boy was already on to his third slice while Sister Evangelina put the tea pot on the table. She treated herself to a rather generous slice, too, and watched the little boy affectionately.

“You know, you do look a lot like your mother,” she said.

Timothy stopped eating and looked up from his plate. “Really? Do you think so? Everyone else keeps telling me how I look exactly like my dad.”

“Yes, you do, with the colour of your hair and you being rather tall. But you also do have your mothers’ eyes, and her cheekbones. And her smile, too.”

“You knew my mother very well, isn’t it?” Timothy asked. “My Dad told me that it was you who made them move to Poplar.”

Sister Evangelina chuckled. “Did he indeed? Well, I believe I may have been part of the story, but they decided on their own. I did, however, know your mother before I met your father. She used to work with us for some time during the war and she always struck me as a very compassionate and kind-hearted woman.”

 

* * *

  

“Good Morning, Nurse Parker,” Sister Evangelina barked. “Bit late, aren’t we?”

“I am sorry, the bus was late again, it had to take a detour,” Marianne said, still breathless from having jogged all the way from the bus stop to Nonnatus House. It was her third week working as an assistant nurse for Nonnatus House. She was given easy routine tasks like sterilizing equipment, rolling bandages, seeing the supply cupboards stocked, lists filed, and the like.

Unlike the sisters and the one fully trained nurse, Marianne was not working shifts, and therefore had not seen the need to move to the convent. She had opted to stay with her mother who was glad to have Marianne back after her year in Aldershot. Perhaps it hadn’t been a good idea after all, Marianne thought. She used to pride herself on being punctual and reliable, but here she was, making Sister Evangelina think she was the most irresponsible person they had ever hired.

Soon after she had taken up work in Poplar, Marianne realized how difficult it was to get to Poplar from her mother’s home in West Ham. Today was the third time she was late, and she felt ashamed to be reprimanded again by Sister Evangelina in front of everyone else. She normally took the bus which was supposed to arrive 45 minutes before the beginning of her shift, and it still often didn’t suffice.

Marianne took a deep breath and bit her lips. “I am sorry, I am going to make up for it and stay on in the afternoon,” she said after a few seconds. She did not dare to argue with Sister Evangelina.

Sister Evangelina huffed again. Marianne liked the sisters. Gentle and airy Sister Monica Joan, kind Sister Julienne, hearty Sister Barbara, the superior of Nonnatus House - only hands-on Sister Evangelina was still intimidating her.

Marianne closed her eyes. She had woken up with a headache, and an aching tummy. Her vision was blurred occasionally. She wondered whether it had to do with the unusually warm weather. Perhaps her body wasn’t just ready for summer. Not while Patrick was away, somewhere in the Mediterranean. He had vowed to write her every day, but had not been entirely certain when he would be able to post his letters. While out on the battlefield, letters sometimes could not be sent for weeks, Marianne knew. She couldn’t stop thinking about him, hoping he was all right, and alive.

“Now, if you are done dreaming, Nurse Parker, I would be glad if you began working on those bandages over there and yes, I appreciate your offer in making up for the twenty minutes you have been late today.”

Before she could even nod, Marianne suddenly felt the need to vomit. She was able to turn towards the sink close to her and all of her breakfast came out in one splash. Before she was able to apologize to Sister Evangelina, she felt the floor give in under her and everything went black.

 

* * *

  

“Ah, there she is,” Sister Evangelina said. Marianne slowly opened her eyes. She found herself in a bed, somewhere she had never been. Was this a room at Nonnatus House?

“You are at The London Hospital, my dear,” the nun explained gently as if she had guessed Marianne being temporarily without orientation.

Marianne opened her mouth, but her tongue was glued to her gum and she was not able to speak. Sister Evangelina noticed and handed her a glass of water. “Gently, only take one or two sips, and we shall see whether your stomach will keep it,” she advised.

Marianne handed back the glass and whispered: “What happened? Why am I in hospital?”

Sister Evangelina looked at her with her lips pressed together before she spoke: “You suffered a miscarriage. You passed out at Nonnatus House, and started bleeding right away. Fred and I took you to the hospital. This was yesterday. I informed your mother that you were unwell and were staying with us. I don’t believe in lying,” she added, “but I assumed from the lack of a ring on your finger that you’d rather want to tell your mother yourself.”

Marianne’s eyes filled with tears and she slowly nodded. The baby, her baby, Patrick’s baby. It was no longer. She had suspected she might be pregnant, and the thought had been pleasing, and frightening at the same time. But right now, she was not yet able to feel anything. She could not allow herself to feel the pain and sadness. She needed to get healthy and out of hospital and talk to her mother. Also, the nuns would certainly dismiss her, so she needed to find something else to keep her busy. Else she would run mad, not being able to take her mind off Patrick in the middle of the battlefield.

“You are not the first woman I have encountered experiencing a situation such as this,” Sister Evangelina suddenly said. “And I am not holding it against you. While I may have my own private opinion about things, I know we are living in hard times. And I have heard you talking about a fiancée to Nurse Campbell. I sincerely hope this fiancée will be coming back to face the consequences of all of this,” she huffed. “Most men …, well, perhaps I am going to spare you this for later. For now, we want you to get back on your feet again.“

Marianne smiled a sad smile. “Thank you,” she whispered. She looked at the clock at the wall by the door. “Shouldn’t you be at compline by now?” she asked?

Sister Evangelina smiled. “Never mind, I wanted to make sure you are all right. They were a bit worried because you didn’t wake up earlier, but now you have, everything will be alright, I say. How could I have missed checking on you?”

Marianne’s eyes moistened. She swallowed and thankfully accepted another few sips of water with Sister Evangelina’s assistance.

“You know, he isn’t even my fiancée, for he said he will only ask me to marry him once he has come back from the war in one piece. He doesn’t want me to have to take care of him, and he didn’t want me to be a young widow as well.”

Sister Evangelina remembered how Sister Julienne had been wary of hiring Marianne Parker. She had rather wanted to hire another fully trained nurse. But Sister Evangelina had immediately liked the younger woman. “We have been looking for a nurse for quite some time now. Most are busy with the war effort, the fully trained ones who don’t mind a bit of mess all are with the army now. Nurse Parker seems a reliable lady. She has worked at Aldershot for quite some time, she certainly knows how to roll up her sleeves. And she is a trained teacher, she isn’t one of these young flirty things. Let us give it a try,” Sister Evangelina had made her point, and Sister Julienne had followed.

Marianne, of course, knew nothing of the talk. She was under the impression that while Sister Evangelina could be quite gruff at times, she always wore her heart on her sleeve. With Sister Julienne, this was different. While she was gentle and friendly, she had a very guarded self, and Marianne never could tell what she was really thinking.

Now tears were rolling down Marianne’s cheeks, and Sister Evangelina felt a wave of compassion flow through her. “Oh now, girl, it will be alright. These things happen, and you’d be surprised how often. For every child born, there are so many never really going that far,” she said.

Marianne shook her head. “I think it is not that. Not just. I am so afraid. What if I never see him again, and can’t tell him? He is a doctor, he would want to know.”

Sister Evangelina nodded. Who was she to judge. Not that she wasn’t a judgemental person, not at all. Especially when it came to men. But she had seen anything a human being could see when it came to relations between men and women. Also, Nurse Parker struck her as a sensible woman, not one to fall for a momentary infatuation. Rather, Sister Evangelina resolved, she would have a pep talk to that Dr Someone should he ever return to the poor woman.

“If he is a doctor, he should have known better than to leave you in this condition,” Sister Evangelina felt inclined to say, but she didn’t. Even she knew when to stop her mouth from voicing her thoughts.

 

* * *

 

_5 September 1943_

_Summer holiday is over. Not that we would really notice, but still, my former teacher self still pays attention to holidays and everything else important for the school year._

_I have had three letters from Patrick today. They are making good progress in Italy, heading North. I do hope they will soon finish off Hitler’s army and give us peace again. Patrick is telling me in every single_ _one_ _of his letters how sorry he is for not having been with me while I was ill. But what could he have done? I think it is more important that we focus on the future and our reunion which I hope will not be too far in the future._

 _What good has come out of it, if any, is that I have found a friend, if I can call her that. I used to be almost scared by Sister Evangelina, and now I will always be grateful for her_ _for_ _hav_ _ing_ _been with me in the hospital. Ever since, she has never once said anything when I was late, for I think she knows that I am good at what I am doing, even though I never was and never will be a nurse with a calling. I am doing it because times require it and I am longing to resume teaching as soon as possible. But for now I have found a place where I can help and where I feel welcome and safe. Who would have thought that this_ _would be_ _in Poplar? The place everyone warns you about, and when I tell my friends about where I am working, no one understands really why I would go there, rather than one of the larger hospitals where, some say, you can even meet one of the doctors._

_But I feel in the right place with the Sisters. Still, I can’t wait for Patrick to return and become his forever._

 

* * *

 

“So you taught Mummy to be a better nurse then?” Timothy asked.

“She was a good nurse already, and she was an eager learner with us,” Sister Evangelina said. “Just like you. You take in everything you see, and you ask many questions. Just like her.”

“Mummy told me that you were with her when I was born. So you are really the first person who met me, right? Even before my dad?”

“Oh yes, this is right,” Sister Evangelina laughed. “You were quite an attraction. The heaviest boy born in Poplar in 1947.”


	6. Sister Evangelina speaks - Part 2

Sister Evangelina energetically knocked at the Turner’s front door. She was panting more heavily than Marianne after almost 8 hours of contractions, and, when Dr Turner almost instantly opened the door, she stormed into the Turner’s flat.

The doctor had called Nonnatus House twenty minutes earlier, conveying the message that his wife’s waters had broken and the birth was now well under way, she had almost dropped her tea cup and hurried to get her doctor’s bag. Sister Julienne had taken the call, but had assumed her fellow Sister was the one Mrs Turner would feel most comfortable with.

Now, Sister Evangelina stood in the Turner’s hallway, trying to catch her breath after pedalling in record speed. “Can you quickly fill me in, please?” she said, still out of breath.

“She has had mild contractions all morning and afternoon and told me to only call Nonnatus House once her waters had broken. Which happened about half an hour ago.”

It was almost six o’clock on a Sunday evening, and Sister Evangelina said: “Well then, if you’re lucky, your child will be born on a Sunday, His day.”

She handed her coat to Dr Turner and made her way into the Turner’s bedroom where Marianne Turner was leaning against a chest of drawers, breathing in and out with deep, long moans. Sister Evangelina approached the labouring woman and began to carefully rub Marianne’s back. “Delivery pack, towels and hot water, all chop chop, please,” she barked her orders towards the doctor, while she steadied a groaning Marianne at the onset of another heavy contraction with both of her arms.

The two women slowly walked towards the bed, Marianne hardly able to walk at all. Sister Evangelina wanted to perform an exam, although she assumed by the intensity of Marianne’s moans and her almost being unable to walk, she must already be quite far along.

“If you don’t mind, I’d appreciate to have everything at hand before your child is born, Dr Turner,” Sister Evangelina grumbled towards her side, where Patrick was still standing near the door and shot him an angry glance.

He hurried outside and returned a few moments later. When he re-entered the bedroom, just about to place the requested items on the chest of drawers, Sister Evangelina shouted “No fathers in the delivery room,” and Patrick quickly took his leave.

Then she looked at Marianne and explained what she was going to do. “You are doing absolutely fine, dear, and I am going to quickly check on your progress.”

Sister Evangelina performed her examination and said: “As I assumed, it won’t be too long now until you will be greeting your baby.”

“Oh, will it?” Marianne panted. “It feels so very long, I don’t know how long I will be able to carry on.”

“You’re doing absolutely fine and I am quite certain your baby will be born yet today.”

Marianne let out another deep moan and Sister Evangelina smiled a small smile. Baby was behaving textbook-like and it would soon be with them she was certain. It wasn’t that long ago, she remembered that she had sat with Marianne in the hospital when another baby wasn’t supposed to be. She couldn’t be happier for her friend and to share this very special moment with her in what ~~was~~ would probably be less than one hour.

She wondered whether Dr Turner, because of his role as a GP, had hoped for being in the room. But she would never make an exception, for anyone. No fathers in the delivery room. And if he wasn’t Marianne’s husband now, she might even have sent him out completely. He was a good doctor, yes, he was. But he was a man. And Sister Evangelina held all men, regardless of their role or character, in rather low esteem.

Yes, he was a good doctor, and a good husband. But she couldn’t quite forget that he had once left Marianne without a commitment. And even though Marianne had always been certain he would eventually make this commitment, Sister Evangelina wasn’t so certain.

She was shaken out of her thoughts by Marianne’s cries getting sharper. The baby was now almost there, she knew, and she had to focus on bringing him into life.

Ten minutes later, Marianne held a boy, of considerable length and weight, in her arms. These first moments after a mother was given her new-born were usually the most precious to Sister Evangelina. No one saw a woman’s face with such an expression of awe and wonder like a midwife, she often thought.

Marianne smiled radiantly at the little boy with a head full of thick dark hair and his forehead already in creases, as if he was trying to assess where he had arrived exactly.

Sister Evangelina quietly began to tidy up the room while keeping an eye on Marianne to make certain the afterbirth was born intact.

Another fifteen minutes later, the afterbirth was out and Sister Evangelina had wrapped the little boy into a towel. “I am going to introduce him to his father and return in a minute to help you clean up,” she said and left the room.

Outside it smelled like a pub, she thought. Dr Turner was pacing the hallway and Sister Evangelina estimated he must have smoked at least two packets of cigarettes. When she came out the door, he hurried towards her with an expectant expression in his face.

“Now, here is your son, Dr Turner,” Sister Evangelina said, and was stunned how her voice seemed to be a bit shaky. Was she still moved by her friend having given birth to this little boy?

She watched the doctor looking at his son in awe. She knew how special this moment was for most men, holding their first child, and she watched the new father for a while, happy that her friend now had both, the man she had been missing so much, and another baby, one that was meant to be born and alive.

“Can I see her now?” he whispered. Sister Evangelina was glad he didn’t forget about his wife. “In just a moment. You hold on to your new son, while I will quickly help her clean up, then I am going to call you in,” she said and retreated into the bedroom.

During the following weeks, Sister Evangelina regularly came for home visits to the Turners’ flat. Marianne was soon up on her feet again and enjoyed Sister Evangelina’s visits. Not so much for her assistance as a midwife, although she greatly appreciated her help. But with Dr Turner being out so much, Marianne often felt lonely, and was glad when Sister Evangelina or any other midwife visited and would then even have a few minutes for a cup of tea.

One day, when Timothy was about three weeks old, Dr Turner was home and saw Sister Evangelina out after her visit. On the doorstep, she turned around and looked at him with an earnest expression: “This may not be the time nor place,” Sister Evangelina said, “but as I am a friend of Marianne and have seen her through difficult times, let me tell you that this boy and the woman inside that room are very dear to me. I was with her back when you had left her pregnant during the war. And even though I have had to correct my first idea of you, I still want to tell you that it should really have been you with her that day. Or at least you should have left her leaving behind your commitment. She never doubted your devotion to her and she was right, but it was the wrong thing to do.”

Dr Turner only nodded, and Sister Evangelina turned around with a satisfied smile. She might have overstepped the line of appropriateness, but then, he was just a man, he would be able to take it. Also, she wanted him to know that he wasn’t the only one who cared about the woman inside.

 

* * *

 

_15 May 1947_

_Spring is here, finally. And I couldn’t be happier. These past months have been so full of everything. Timothy has been bringing us such joy, but it was also quite a change to our life to have a baby. He has always been a very happy baby, and never cried very much, I am glad. Still, we have gone through some adjustment._

_Patrick is very proud of his son. Just today he could not stop telling Ted who visited with his newest girlfriend about how much the boy is growing and how he has just learned to turn from the back to his belly._

_But I feel that Patrick also is feeling neglected, and might at times even be jealous of the baby. As much as I enjoy being a mother, it can be quite tedious spending an entire day alone with the baby. Even though Mummy and Sister Evangelina have been helping a lot and even watched Timothy for me to be able to run a few errands by myself, I often have the feeling I am not managing as well as I should. I wonder how all those mothers with two, three or more children do it? But they surely manage, perhaps there is a trick to it one learns with the years of being a mother._

_Patrick has been wanting to resume our marital relations, but I am not entirely certain about it. I do miss him and our time alone, but at night I am just so very tired that I can’t seem to enjoy him touching me. Also, I know that in just an hour or two the baby will wake up again in need another feeding and I feel I need to take all the sleep I can get._

_Patrick would never pressure me to do anything I didn’t want, but I can tell he is not entirely happy. This is one thing I do not feel comfortable discussing with Sister Evangelina. She doesn’t have a high opinion of men in general, and I feel that she never quite took to Patrick the right way. She does respect him and, like everyone around here, she is impressed with his work as a GP. But I suspect that she never quite forgave him for leaving me ~~back~~ pregnant, but without a commitment, when he went overseas in 1943. While this makes me sad, I also appreciate her concern and friendship in that matter. Had it not been for her, I don’t know how I would have survived those dark times._

_Had I known back then that everything would be all right, that Patrick would return healthy and healed eventually, that we would get married and have our precious son, who knows. I am certainly glad things have turned out this way._

 

* * *

 

 

“So you were friends, but not real friends?”

“What do you mean, not real friends?” Sister Evangelina asked amused. She had a suspicion what the boy meant but wasn’t entirely daring to say.

“Well,” Timothy began, “I don’t know whether you can be friends with- “ he paused.

“With nuns?” Sister Evangelina asked again? “I should think you can. I am one, just ask me,” she added, winking at the boy.

Timothy’s cheeks turned crimson and Sister Evangelina smiled at him. She put another slice of cake onto his plate and said: “Your mother was a very dear friend to me. She was a very special lady and I am glad that I get to be friends with her very special son, too.”

 


	7. Fred speaks

“Do you need any help with that?” Timothy asked, approaching Fred who was busy picking strawberries in his garden. Fred looked up from his task and grinned: “Yes, I could use some help. But make sure to pick, not just eat, young lad,” he added.

Timothy eagerly squatted down next to Fred and began picking the red fruit. “But I am allowed to occasionally check whether they are ripe, aren’t I?” the boy asked mischievously.

Fred laughed. “Oh yes, of course. Let’s see. You can check with every tenth fruit whether they still qualify for being ripe, alright?”

Timothy smiled and nodded, stuffing another piece of fruit into his mouth. He and Fred worked along in silence for a while until Fred asked: “Do you like them? Aren’t they just the sweetest ones?” Timothy nodded: “Yes, they are very good.”

“You know who once gave the plants to me?” Fred asked. Timothy looked at him with big eyes and shook his head. “Your Mummy. Do you remember the time when my girls used to babysit you? Oh, that was a few years ago. Eight years or so, I guess,” he tried to remember. “Perhaps you don’t even remember. One day, your mother sent a small basket of these strawberries along, and the next day I went to her and said “Mrs Turner, I need to have a few plants of these. I have never tasted a strawberry this sweet.”

Tim grinned and said: “I remember Dolly always singing a song about a chimney sweeper with me. I can’t remember it anymore, but this is one thing I remember. And Marlene would always hold me by my feet and tickle me.”

* * *

“Good morning Fred, “Marianne smiled. “How are the strawberries coming along?”

“Splendidly, Mrs Turner,” Fred replied. He was watering his garden, and Marianne had come to greet him after dropping off some medicines from Patrick’s surgery for the nurses to take on their morning rounds.

“Yes, I was hoping so. These really are the best. My mother has been growing them since I was a child and I am glad you like them. How are the girls? I have to say, we are going to miss Marlene now that she has started her typist course. How is she doing? Glad Dolly will still be around for a while.“

“The girls are all Mrs Turner this, Mrs Turner that, even Marlene. She’s doing alright, all fancy clothes and new friends now, though,” Fred said with a serene expression. It was hard to bring up the girls all alone, but they also made him very proud every day.

Now he held a few pieces of fruit to three-year old Timothy who had hidden behind his mother’s legs.

“Go on, Timothy, take them,” Marianne encouraged him. Then, looking at Fred, she continued: “They are such great help. They are lovely with Timothy and I am very glad to have them over every once in a while.”

“I am certainly glad you do,” Fred said. He lowered his voice just a bit and said: “You know, I do the best I can, but I am just their father. There are a few things girls need their mother for, or, at least, a lady friend. Mrs Gee has also been lovely with them, helping them make and change their dresses and such. But I can tell ever since they have been watching Timothy at your house every now and then, I am quite relieved. They seem to get answers for questions I wouldn’t even know to ask,” he chuckled.

Marianne laughed. “Oh yes, I know what you mean. I am happy to help. I can only imagine how hard it must be bringing up one’s children all alone. And look at me, I only have one. If I was alone with Timothy I certainly would appreciate for a male friend to take care of him once he is a bit older.”

“I hope Marlene doesn’t get any wrong ideas now she is all over town with her new friends from school,” Fred said, slightly worried.

Marianne smiled. “Oh no, I think you needn’t worry. She is a very responsible young lady. I think she is a lot more grown up than most sixteen-year-olds. She is very determined to finish school and earn her living, I don’t think she will get any ideas. And if you don’t mind me saying, we did indeed have a long heart-to-heart, so you can be absolutely assured you can trust her.”

Fred nodded and smiled a thankful smile. He bent down and looked at Timothy: “Now, did you like those strawberries?” The little boy nodded shyly. “Then come over, have some more.”

Fred nodded towards the bowl he had already filled with berries. Timothy considered it for a while until he slowly trodded away from his mother, towards Fred’s hand. “Now, there you go,” Fred laughed.

The older man looked up at Marianne and said: “You have such a lovely little lad here. Even though I hope it will be another few years, I can’t wait to be a grandfather. I forgot how much joy it is to be with them little ones.”

“Oh, yes, it is. But it can be demanding at times, too,” Marianne laughed. “Though I suppose as a grandparent you can enjoy the good times and let the parents take over once it becomes too tiring. At least this is what my mother is telling me.”

Both laughed and Fred said: “Dolly said she would be glad to watch Timothy for the summer fete if you feel like going to the dance with Dr Turner?”

“Oh did she? This is very kind of her. Yes, I mentioned that we haven’t been for a dance in quite a while. He is always so very busy with the new National Health guidelines. But yes, I may hold her up on her offer.”

* * *

_13 November 1950_

_I think Dolly has got a boyfriend. If I saw right, she held hands with some young lad at the park today. It is perhaps time I have another talk with her, though I believe she is as responsible as her sister when it comes to these things. But then you never know with today’s young people._

_Look at me, going all on about young people. When have I stopped being young? Now, at 37 I certainly am no longer young. With the war having shaken up so many relationships it is not uncommon, though ever since I have had Timothy I feel the difference. There are so many mothers 15 or more years my junior. I wonder if we ever will have another child. We have been talking about adding another one for quite some time now. For the past two or three weeks I did feel quite different and I suspected I might be pregnant again. Until yesterday my cycle began again, very late and unusually strong. So I may have been pregnant but not for very long. I very much hope for it to happen again._

_Patrick keeps telling me he would like to have a girl, a little sister for Timothy. The idea is appealing. I don’t care; as long as it is healthy I am going to welcome any child that wants to be part of our family._

_Though I must say, ever since Dolly and Marlene have been coming over every few weeks, I have come to like being a bit of a mother to them. Not a real mother, but offering them advice and encouragement where Fred is no longer able to. And I think Fred appreciates them to be able to talk to me whenever they have “women’s questions”._

_It is five years now that Patrick was released from Northfield. Almost five years we have been married now. Who would have thought? What a long way we have come. From the war and all the misery related to it to being a happy family living in a community where circumstances are difficult, but where we both feel needed._

_Indeed, would we have met people like the Buckles? Probably not, and we would have missed out greatly. Also the Sisters, I can’t imagine our lives being different anymore, and I am very happy._

_Ted will be going to New York. He told us recently. When he visited, he left a letter for me, which I enclose here. He suggested Patrick should consider his spot at Harley Street, he said he would recommend him. He would probably earn double than what he is making as a GP here in Poplar. He would have much fewer on-call times and a very different group of people for patients. But Patrick declined right away, without even considering it for a minute._

_Later, he apologized. He told me we should have discussed it before he finally declined, but I understand. This is not who Patrick is. He is in the exact spot where he is supposed to be, he is no Harley Street doctor. And after five years in Poplar, I cannot imagine myself becoming a Harley Street doctor’s wife. I’d rather discuss Fred’s strawberries, be a judge at the handicraft competition or help Nonnatus House with sorting charity donations for families in need._


	8. So long Marianne - Trixie speaks

„What can I get you, Timothy?“ Trixie chirped.

„Umm, is this a chocolate cake?” the boy asked, shyly pointing to a large cake on the cake buffet Trixie was tasked to serve at.

Trixie smiled. “Yes, it is. And guess what, I am going to cut you an extra large slice.” Timothy beamed and thankfully accepted the generously filled plate. “I assume you are going to run the three-legged race, and you need to gather all the strength you can get,” Trixie laughed, watching Timothy stuffing his mouth with cake.

She was quite fond of the little boy, for he reminded her of his mother who had been a sort of motherly friend to Trixie when she first came to Poplar. As if he had read her mind, Timothy, his plate half emptied, said: “It tastes like the cake my Mummy used to bake.”

His face became sad, and Trixie hurried to reply: “Yes, I know. She gave me the recipe once and it was me who made this particular cake. And guess what? The dress I am wearing, I was given it by your Mummy, too.”

Timothy watched her, not sure what to reply. “It looks nice on you,” he finally said. Trixie smiled.

“You were with her a lot before she…?” the boy’s voice died before he could finish his sentence.

Trixie smiled again. “Yes, I was. And she never stopped short of telling me how much she loved you.” She looked at the little boy, his eyes getting watery. “Your mum was to me like Fred is to you, you know. Like Fred is doing with you at Cubs. When I first arrived here in Poplar I still had to learn quite a lot and your Mummy often helped me when I had no one else to go to. It was not that long ago. Only three years… oh my,” she panted.

* * *

 

“Good morning, Nurse – ?”

“Franklin. Beatrix Franklin. And you are Mrs. -?”

“I am Mrs Patrick Turner. I am bringing a few prescription medicines for you to take on your rounds.”

“Oh, thank you, I’ll take them with me, we are about to begin the day,” Trixie said eagerly, reaching for the paper bag the friendly-looking woman who had rang the door bell just a minute ago was holding in her hand. Just then she heard a stern voice from behind: “Nurse Franklin, would you kindly ask Mrs Turner inside? We aren’t treating people like that,” Sister Evangelina came up behind her and indicated the other woman to enter Nonnatus House.

“This is Mrs Turner, the doctor’s wife. We are always asking her in and offer her a cup of tea,” Sister Evangelina explained in her usual impatient tone. Trixie felt her cheeks getting warm and smiled at Mrs Turner. “I have to apologise, Mrs Turner, “she said shyly, and stepped back so their guest could enter.

Mrs Turner shook her head, causing her brown curls to swing nicely, and said: “Oh please, never mind. I was new here once, too, I know how difficult the first days can be.” Then she looked at Sister Evangelina and continued: “Good morning, Sister. Isn’t it always like this: The first days and weeks aren’t the easiest, but once you have mastered them with the help of the Sisters, you will be absolutely fine.” She looked back at Trixie and gave her an encouraging smile.

Trixie nodded and watched Mrs Turner and Sister Evangelina make their way towards the kitchen.

She had arrived at Nonnatus House only a few days ago, and even though she loved working as a nurse and midwife, she still had to get the hang of life within a convent, and of working under Sister Evangelina’s close watch in particular.

She had already met Doctor Turner, but hadn’t been aware that his wife was apparently a friend of Nonnatus House (and how could she?). According to the older woman’s exchange with Sister Evangelina, Mrs. Turner, too, seemed to have worked here. Perhaps this was how she had met her husband. It was quite common for nurses to marry doctors. Not just a few of Trixie’s fellow nurses in training had fantasised about how they would be doctors’ wives in a few years. Trixie could see herself as one too, if she was honest, but her main interest at the moment was solely to gain experience in midwifery and improve her skills to become a more than excellent nurse.

* * *

 

_September 1956_

_I met the new nurse today, a very pretty and polite young woman. She seems quite careful with her appearance, judging by her hair and make-up, but Sister Evangelina told me that she is quite skilled, and qualified as one of the best of her class._

_Patrick told me earlier that they already worked together during a complicated delivery and he, too, thinks that Sister Julienne has picked a very good nurse, even though she may probably need a while to find her footing within Poplar. She comes from a different part of town, but she appears to have the strength to get herself through the first weeks and months._

_She is by far the youngest inhabitant of Nonnatus House, a few years younger than Sister Bernadette, and I was thinking of offering her a bit of advice once she has settled down. Even though I am quite a few years older than her, she might want to know about shops like that of Mrs Gee or other places to go, places the Sisters wouldn’t necessarily know or think of._

_I have been thinking of taking up teaching again. I talked to Patrick last night and he said he would support any decision I made regarding my professional life. I thought I might just ask around at the schools in the district. I would even be happy to help out somewhere for just a few hours a week. I haven’t been teaching since before the war, which is more than fifteen years._

_Fifteen years, what a long period of time. I can’t get my head around this. But now that Timothy is getting older and starting to prefer his friends and Cubs to my company, I feel that I need to find something else to occupy my mind._

_By now, we both have given up hope of ever having another child, so I might as well try to get back a foot into my former profession._

* * *

 

Spring 1957

“Nurse Franklin, good to see you,” Marianne said. It was four weeks now since she had fallen ill with an inexplicable abdominal pain. Patrick had already referred her to the hospital twice with suspected appendicitis, but nothing had confirmed the diagnosis. She had been very weak for the past ten days, so Patrick had asked the Sisters to add Marianne to their rota so that they could check in on her on a daily basis as she was hardly able to get out of bed.

“I hope you had a good Easter,” Marianne said while Trixie checked blood pressure and temperature. Marianne lay on the settee in the Turner’s living room, covered by a warm blanket. Trixie had noticed immediately that the blanket was far too warm for a sunny spring day. She had noticed, too, Mrs Turner’s very pale face, and the dark shadows beneath the older woman’s eyes that were normally full of joy and sparkle.

“Well thank you. I volunteered to work, though. Our new nurse, Nurse Miller who just started was called home. Her brother was very ill, so I offered to take her shifts.”

“This is very kind of you,” Marianne said. “You know, when you first arrived, I never expected you to adjust to the conditions here so quickly.”

“Really?” Trixie said surprised.

“Please don’t take it as an offense,” Marianne said, smiling a tired and apologetic smile.

“Oh no, not at all. I am aware that in the eyes of the local people I seem to be coming from another planet at times,” Trixie laughed. “So how are you today, Mrs Turner?” she continued, her voice earnest now.

Marianne contemplated her answer for a while, closing her eyes for a few seconds. “You know, I am tempted to say I am alright. But between you and me, can I be honest and tell you that I am beginning to feel that whatever it is that ails me is not going to change anymore?”

“Oh, don’t say this, Mrs Turner, please,” Trixie exclaimed. “Medicine can do so much, and I am certain between Dr Turner and the doctors at the London, they are going to eventually find out what causes your pain.”

Marianne slowly shook her head. “I know it may sound strange, but I have a very distinct feeling that I am not going to be healed. I can’t base it on a fact, it’s just… last night, I had a dream. A dream I had a few nights ago, too. I saw a funeral. My funeral. Tim and Patrick were standing at my grave, crying.” She paused again, and swallowed hard before she continued. “I am not going to tell Patrick, but I have to get this off my chest. I believe you can keep a secret?”

Trixie nodded very slowly.

“I am not superstitious, I believe in God and I know this all sounds very strange. But after having had these dreams, I just know. I think God is telling me to prepare myself. To say good bye. I was considering telling Sister Evangelina but she would not have any of it. I feel you are the person to confide in.” Marianne let her head which she had lifted while she had been speaking fall back onto the cushion, again closing her eyes for a few seconds, as if it had cost her an enormous amount of energy to say what she just had told Trixie.

Trixie bit her lips while she awkwardly kneaded the tube of the blood pressure meter. She was at a loss at what to reply. She certainly didn’t want to argue with Mrs Turner. She had always admired the woman’s strength and courage. Sister Evangelina had once told her how Mrs Turner had first arrived here as an assistant nurse and left quite an impression on everyone. Trixie also knew that it had been Marianne Turner that had convinced her husband to become the GP for this area, and judging by how highly most people spoke of their doctor, she had been doing God’s work.

“I am sorry if I made you feel uncomfortable,” Marianne said, extending her hand towards Trixie as if she wanted to appease the young nurse. “But it feels good to have said it out loud for once.”

“No, I am sorry for leaving you with the impression that I wouldn’t take you seriously,” Trixie said. Trixie took Mrs Turner’s hand into hers, placed the blood pressure meter which she was still holding in her hands, onto the coffee table, and knelt down next to her patient’s head.

“You know, I have been thinking about you for quite some time, “ Marianne suddenly said. “Would you go to my bedroom? There is a dress on my bed, could you get it for me, please?”

Trixie nodded, got up again and slowly walked towards the Turners’ bedroom. She felt her cheeks blush when she entered, thinking this was where Dr Turner spent his nights. She spotted a light blue silk dress on one side of the bed, quickly lifted it and turned around.

“Ah, yes, this one,” Marianne smiled when Trixie returned to the living room. “For quite some time I wanted to give it to you.”

Trixie felt her cheeks get even warmer. “Oh, not, I couldn’t possibly – “s he began but was interrupted by Marianne.

“Oh yes, you can,” she smiled. “I was given it as a present myself. My friend Catherine is a dressmaker and made it for me. But I was never entirely happy with the colour. And I believe it would suit you so much better.”

“Please, Mrs Turner, I cannot accept this, it is too precious a gift,” Trixie said.

Marianne smiled at her. “As I said, I never wear it anymore. And I am afraid that I won’t have much time left anyway,” she added. “Please do me the favour and keep the dress alive for me.”

Trixie swallowed. Was this meant to be a good-bye present? Ever since she had arrived at Nonnatus House not yet a year ago, she had held Mrs Turner in high regard. Mrs Turner was probably around 20 years her senior but she looked a lot younger. Even next to her husband, Mrs Turner looked younger, though they probably were about the same age, Trixie thought.

When she had first arrived at Poplar, Trixie had been very motivated to be working at Nonnatus House. But at the same time, she had found it a bit intimidating to work along the very capable nuns, especially Sister Evangelina and Sister Bernadette, who were constantly challenging the nurses to do their best and keep on improving their skills.

Mrs Turner had casually offered help, had introduced Trixie to a few people, had informed her when there was a fair or a group meeting which might be of interest for younger women and where she might meet friends outside of work.

* * *

 

_13 September 1957_

_We have our diagnosis. It is as I suspected all along. It is cancer of the ovaries. It has already spread too much, to the uterus and beyond, so the doctors won’t be able to heal it._

_I am just back from the hospital. I have been feeling so much better for the past weeks and I think Patrick was hoping I was finally back to my old self again. Only ten days ago, when we were out buying Tim’s new uniform, I collapsed in front of the store and was taken to hospital again. They had a new doctor who did a few new tests and confirmed his suspicion. And mine, really. I have had this feeling all along, that my body is going to betray me, and that I am going to die soon._

_Now that we have the diagnosis, Patrick is devastated. He was crying last night, when we were in bed. I have never seen him cry, and it takes all the strength I can muster to not cry along with him. But I have to be strong. We haven’t yet told Tim. We wanted him to get settled with the new school year first._

_The doctors were not able to tell how much time I have left. They said two months to one year. So we do have to prepare Tim eventually. It was as if my body has allowed me to enjoy one last summer, most of the summer holidays I felt like back to my old self. I was looking forward to begin teaching again in the new school year and I do feel very awful for letting the primary school down, they had rather high hopes in my appointment._

_But now, I am getting weaker every day. I know that very soon, I will not be able to keep on writing. Already, it is getting difficult to carry out all tasks around the house and I need to discuss with Patrick about getting a housekeeper. Once I am gone, they will need one, and I rather see to myself to find someone suitable for my family._

_I requested Nurse Franklin and Sister Evangelina to see me through all of this. Sister Evangelina will pray with me and Nurse Franklin will bring some joy to my last days. I think it has helped that I have been in her place once. I have seen so many young soldiers die, I am not afraid. The only worry I have is for Tim and Patrick. How will they be able to carry on? With Patrick being away most of the time, I worry about Tim. Granny Parker said she is going to take care of him as good as she can, but in the end, the boy needs a mother. I will ask Patrick to see to getting married again. He will say no, but for Tim’s sake, I want him to consider it soon._

_I feel I am getting tired. I wonder how long I have. I would like to spend one last Christmas with Tim and Patrick, though. And see Tim turn 11 perhaps. And really also enjoy another spring. We shall see._


End file.
